


Hero

by turntechnologic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Hero Worship, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/pseuds/turntechnologic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro’s been your hero since before you could walk.</p><p>For the HSWC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Butterfly Effect, small changes with large consequences.

Bro’s been your hero since before you could walk. A masked avenger, a silent vigilante, a dark knight- whatever he was, you know Bro was the one who had it all under control. He was the fastest, strongest, smartest man you had ever known. He was better than Spider-Man, better than Batman, Captain America, even better than Superman. And that was because you knew Bro was the real deal. 

He didn't need fancy gadgets to save the day. He didn't have to fly, he didn't need a mythological hammer. Bro won fights with his bare hands, without the help of a super-serum. There was a time, however, when you thought he had a costume. You'd follow him around the apartment, little six-year-old legs tottering after his large and powerful strides. When he stopped and turned to ask you what was up, you asked him where he kept his cape. 

"It's in the wash." He said, reaching down to pick you up, even if you were getting a little big for that. Maybe Bro had super strength.

There was one thing that you did know for sure, though. Bro had a secret identity. He had a mask.

Whenever you left the apartment with him you watched him put it on. He's school his features, straighten the smile off his lips, slip his shades over his eyes. After a while you'd start to copy him- your desire to be just like your brother was one of the stronger forces that guided your actions when you were young. When the two of you were out together you'd train your face to sit still in that same stoic expression, a miniature version of the man larger than life who walked beside you. For a while it was the most challenging thing for you to do, because when you were out with Bro all you wanted to do was smile. 

Forget Gwen Stacy, forget Rachel Dawes- you were the only one in the world who really knew what it was like for a superhero to reveal their true face, you were the only one who knew what it was like to see a hero’s true identity. Bro did it every day, just for you. And you knew he liked it like that. 

Whenever Bro beckoned you over to show you something, whether it be how to throw a punch or what intricate footwork worked best for this particular sword motion, you drank it all in. You sucked in all the knowledge he could give you, eager to learn, eager to grow. You knew you couldn't ever be him, but maybe being like him would be enough. What kid didn't want to be a carbon copy of his favorite superhero? 

You didn't start incorporating yourself into the story until your freshman year in high school. Up until then, you'd been content just being a bystander, someone who would admire the hero from the streets. It dawned on you, then, that you didn't actually know what your brother did that made him so super, but the idea of being his sidekick was just too good to let go. Maybe it was all just childish make-believe that you could be someone special. 

It sure was childish of you to ask Bro to take care of the monsters in your closet when you were six years old. Looking back on it as a teenager, face full of acne and stomach full of rancid bile- you were kind of upset that you had him take them out of the closet. Some company would have been much appreciated. 

For a while, you could ignore it. You could be happy with being the sidekick. The loyal partner, the right hand man, his trusted friend and ally. However, it soon grew pretty apparent that your subconscious would rather pin you as the damsel in distress whenever you would let your mind wander. Brain Ghost Bro was always so eager to cash in on those cliché kisses you would offer him after a hard night's work, and damn were you willing to dish them out. 

When you turned sixteen you were convinced Bro could read minds, because when you finally gave in and took those fantasies a little further, he stopped looking at you. 

He would turn away, avert his eyes, limit contact and eventually even leave the room. He hid from you by going out more, going out earlier, staying out later, and coming home long after you would bury your head under the pillow and tried to catch as much elusive sleep you could get your hands on. Some nights it seemed like you needed a Master Ball to make it happen. He was deaf to your goodbye's in the morning when you left for school, passed out on the futon from a long night out on the town. 

And it angered you. Sure, you were one sick and twisted fuck, who maybe wanted his own damn brother to pin him against the wall- but your big brother was Bro Strider. That narcissistic asshole would tell you bedtime stories about himself! He didn't hide from anything- not even his kid brother's warped mind. He wasn't a coward like you were, and seeing him shy away from your presence made your stomach churn. You just couldn't take it. 

The apartment was dark, and the city outside was nearly silent. It was well past four in the morning, and even John had turned in hours ago. Each passing minute was another cold rock of fear in your stomach and you could feel it pulling you lower and freezing you from the inside out. 

What if tonight was the night? What if Bro didn't come back at all? Had he finally given up? Had Bro thrown in the towel, washed his hands clean of you and left you on your own while he, the man you held above all others even to that very day, ran from the one thing he couldn't bring himself to fight? 

You nearly threw up when you heard his keys in the door, and Bro looked just as sick after his eyes fell on you sitting there, exhausted and still waiting. 

"Why are you hiding from me?" Your voice was raw from disuse and lack of sleep. It sounded weak, and you shrunk at the thought that it fit your current state. 

" I have no ide-"

"Yes, you do. Just stop- you can't do this, Bro, you can't be afraid- you just can't!" God, your heart was in your throat, your chest was tight and you couldn't even breathe properly as you stood up and searched his face, watched him try and put on that mask. 

"You don't understand, just go to bed."

Like that would be any help- you had to wake up in an hour, anyway. 

"Why won't you look at me? Am I too disgusting? Do I disappoint you? I'm really sorry, Bro, but believe me I'm disappointed in myself, too. I just can't fucking help it."

He looked shocked standing in front of you. The gears inside his head were spinning, trying to piece things together, things you both knew and things you couldn't even guess at. His stoic face was glitching out, a twitch here, a pull there. Part of you was really proud, and another was shaking in it's boots. The majority of you, though, was too tired to care. But at least he was paying attention. 

"I think you've got me wrong here, Dave." 

You missed hearing him say your name. 

"How could I possibly be wrong, Bro, come on and give me one good reason, one scrap of evidence pointing to how I could even remotely be wrong about this." 

You were expecting him to walk closer, you were ready to watch his hands come up in the air- hell, you couldn't figure out why he hadn't done this sooner. But you were really thrown off when his lips connected with your own, not his knuckles. For a moment you thought it was all just another sick joke, but then you noticed how tight, how gentle, how carefully his hands were on your wet cheeks. Guess you were always destined to be the damsel in distress. 

"Was that enough evidence?" 

"I forget, you're gonna have to explain it to me again." 

"I just kissed you, dumbass, what, were you not paying attention? Do I really have to expla-" 

An hour later the two of you were huddled together under the sheets on your bed. Your head was pressed into his chest and his arms were wrapped around your back and shoulders. It was hard to stay awake with the gentle movement of his chest under your ear, but the deep rumble of his voice managed to rouse you. 

"Guess you ain't goin to school today."

"Guess you aren't going out tonight." You couldn't see, but you knew his lips pulled into a wry smile. 

"Bro. I got a question." 

"I got one too, but whatever I'll let you go first, I'm a gentleman after all."

Rolling your eyes, you tucked your face up some into the crook of his neck. You quieted down some, and only spoke up after Bro frowned a little and looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Come on, kiddo, spit it out." 

"Why were you ignoring me?" 

Bro looked back up at the ceiling and stilled his hands on your back. You were about to withdraw the question, thinking maybe you'd touched down on something he wasn't ready to talk about yet, but before you could even feel properly hurt about that he was talking. 

"Honestly, I was doing the complete opposite. I couldn't stop thinking about you, hell I still can't. I just couldn't take knowing I was... after you like that, I guess. I'm sorry," 

You fell silent against him, fingers curling a bit tighter into your palm as you tried to shift closer almost unconsciously. You were about to speak up when Bro cleared his throat and tapped your ribs. 

"Come on, my turn. I got a question." 

"Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever."

"What did you mean when you said I couldn't be afraid?"

It did take you a moment before you could think back far enough to remember when you had said that, and when you did recall the conversation your ears turned a little red. You never really told him about that hero thing.

"It's dumb, next question." 

"Bullshit, I answered yours."

God, what an asshole. 

"It's lame." 

"It probably is, yeah, but I still wanna know." 

You picked yourself up off his chest and braced your arms over him, and the sheet on your back slid down some and turned your ears red just that much more. "Man, fuck you. I said it because you've always been my hero, but I guess that isn't true anymore. The basic requirement to being a hero is first being a decent fucking person, no dickwads allowed." 

Bro fell silent beneath you, and you kind of instantly regretted saying anything. You cuddled back down into his warm chest defensively, and only relaxed when he pulled the sheet back up to your shoulders. 

"That's probably for the best. I'm not much of the hero type- you're better suited for it, honestly." He said it so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, but it echoed inside your head louder than a gunshot. 

Bro fell asleep pretty quickly after that. He snored, but very quietly. It was endearing.

You, however, were having a little bit of trouble letting yourself fall asleep. Sure, being awake for the past twenty four hours would normally help you out, but no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get Bro's words out of your head.

It was funny. He said it so casually, but he was so sure. He believed it, just like he believed in you. 

Bro thought that you- Dave Strider- could be the hero. He thought you'd do a better job than he could. The man you looked up to for your whole, entire life believed that his scrawny, unremarkable kid brother was hero material, and that you were better suited for the job. 

The idea was very nearly laughable. What was really puzzling about this was the fact that you weren't. 

You couldn't be taking this seriously, were you? You never even put yourself in that position. The sidekick, the damsel in distress, hell, even the archenemy on occasion- that was your norm. You weren't a hero- your friend John was, Bro was. You... you just weren't. 

Heroes needed... things, they needed masks, they needed skills, they needed admirers and enemies. Bro had all of that, you watched him put on his mask every day, the same one that- the same one that you put on. 

Alright, so you had a mask. Big deal. It's not like you had the skills to be a hero, what really mattered. Sure, you could throw a punch, sure you had some great footwork, and fine, yeah, you were handy with a sword. That didn't prove much, right? You were still pretty sloppy, and nowhere near as refined as Bro. 

The hand on your back shifted over some, and you turned your gaze up to look at your older brother. Here was a man who believed in you, pound for pound for how much you believed in him. Just thinking that you could somehow be better than him was a ludicrous idea, but if Bro could believe in you, then maybe you could, too. 

Fuck, this was starting to sound like some Grade A Gurren Lagann logic, now. That was the kind of stuff that was almost too insane not to work. 

Smiling to yourself, you buried your nose into Bro's neck again. He shifted a little more in his sleep and pulled you closer, sending a little thrill up your back. 

You could be his hero. Sure, it'd be ages before he might ever need one, and maybe even longer until you could be ready, but those few, small words he had half-murmured into your hair were all you needed to get you there. You'll work harder, you'll train harder. And you won't let him down. 

If it was crazy enough for Bro to believe in, then there wasn’t a chance you could fail.


End file.
